That would be worse.
The clap is always worse in these scenarios.
But being sent home, a little bit drunk and a whole lot unfulfilled, really sucks too.

I know how the monkey feels.
Cheers,
Mr.B
word (wûrd) n. 1. A sound or a combination of sounds, or its representation in writing or printing, that symbolizes and communicates a meaning and may consist of a single morpheme or of a combination of morphemes. 2. A weblog that you are reading, right now.
First, thanks! I appreciate your passing the word along.
Second, I ask one thing of anyone who wants to link to "word". Rather than link to it, using my actual name, I ask that links to word, actually say simply "word" or "Mr.Bs blog".
I do this to protect myself from current and future employers who might come here and be distressed to see how often I say the word "fuck" or talk about "our fucking president" or how much I want to "fuck Rosario Dawson".
Your kind consideration keeps the Internets free for me to use dirty words and I thank you for it!
Cheers, Mr.B
3 comments:
I feel there's a story here. You should spin it out and get creative with it, you little girl you.
blue balls are a myth. like God.
Nope. No story here. This post is the sum and total of what needs to be said about this.
Just a frustrated dude, refused carnal entry and forced go home and take care of things on his own.
It's actually a little sad and pathetic.
And Crescent, if you think Blue Balls are a myth, tell it to the monkey, baby.
God, however, is a myth. Spot on there, lass.
Cheers,
Mr.B
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